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Kicking one butt at a time

Hidden Gems in a Cat Butt

This is truly accurate

I know this post is a bit late. For some reason, I don’t like anything I write lately. I’ve actually finished this blog post three times already, only to delete it because it lacked anything interesting. Let’s start with the title of this blog, “Hidden Gems in a Cat Butt”. The title is the most exciting thing about this page of words. It conjures up all kinds of images, right? Nuggets of smelly wisdom to be sure. Of course, I didn’t mean it literally. I was alluding to my running injury and some unexpected byproducts of that injury. My inability to trek across the neighborhood in Brooks shoes, a Nike Running Watch, and a no-brand visor left me seeking out alternate forms of exercise. So I tried yoga. Who knew I would like it so much? I never considered yoga because I didn’t think anybody could possibly get a good workout by twisting around like a schizophrenic pretzel. But, you can… or at least I can. There it is…a twisty Gem in a Cat Butt.

Pity Kitty

Even though I’ve been practicing yoga for a few weeks now, I still don’t quite fit in with the yoga crowd yet. My yoga outfit consists of a t-shirt, usually with a zombie reference on it, and some stretchy shorts. Everyone else has fitted yoga pants and crazy looking tops with holes, straps and strings twisting strategically around the boobs. Let me take this opportunity to say this only goes for the women. The men are generally shirtless, which is fine, because they would look extremely odd in a pink string thongy shirt thing. I think you have to be a black belt in yoga before you are allowed to wear such things.

I haven’t quite gotten the knack of the poses yet. My Downward Facing Dog is more like Mutt in the Mud, and my Half Moon Warrior is more like Jerky Scarecrow. At least I make the instructor laugh.

I am also slowly learning yoga etiquette too. For instance, during the cool off phase at the end of practice, we usually lie quietly on our mats with our eyes closed while meditating on our stretched muscles. It’s actually kind of nice…. until the guy next to you starts to snore. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, but tossing a wet towel in his face was how I chose to handle it. Did I mention that I have a hard time making yoga friends?

Also, another thing to keep in mind while in a yoga class is if you hear a fart-like sound, it’s always caused by something sliding on the mat. ALWAYS. No one ever really farts in yoga. Oh, and don’t laugh (out loud anyway).

All and all, I think I’m going to stick with yoga even after I get better and can run again. I can’t say I will give up my zombie t-shirts though. Some things are sacred.

I wish you inner peace and may these cat butt gems bring you enlightenment….. (I am trying to be Zen here, if you could not tell).